


Hunt

by KQfucker69



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and stuff, Drug Use, Human AU, Kidnapping, M/M, Mafia AU, Suicide, red ice
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-06-14 15:00:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15391299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KQfucker69/pseuds/KQfucker69
Summary: The Red Ice epidemic is back in town. Detective Gavin Reed's got one job to do. The mafia is watching him.





	1. Prey

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THE ADDITIONAL TAGS and be reminded that this is a fictional MAFIA AU which means some liberties will be taken with regards to accuracy and HUMAN AU aka NO ANDROIDS. All android characters tagged are humans in this fic.
> 
> This work is greatly inspired by [this artwork](https://twitter.com/raaaawrbin/status/1016369177592922112) from @raaaawrbin on Twitter. Also very inspired by the song [The Wolf](https://youtu.be/lX44CAz-JhU) by SIAMÉS and the first scene in the music video.
> 
> Also wrote this while thinking about jjba's vento aureo lol

“And you, what’s your progress on the case?”

The department in charge of handling Red Ice cases was taking turns being personally addressed by Hank for updates on their investigations regarding the drug epidemic. The turn had reached Gavin, but he was staring blankly into the space before him. No answer came. The entire room turned their heads to stare at him expectantly.

“Gavin!” Hank practically roared. Tensions were high at present.

Gavin snapped back to reality, blinking away the cloudiness in his head. “What?”

All around him he met exhausted, disappointed eyes. There was no time to waste on this case, and Gavin being so absent-minded was not helping the situation.

“I said, what is your progress on the case? Any leads? Something? Nothing?”

Gavin focused an unintimidated, level gaze at Hank. “Nothing.”

“Fucking hell. We have scraps on our table right now, people. This isn’t good enough! The epidemic is becoming as bad as it was ten years ago. But the superiors are refusing to fund another Red Ice Task Force.” Hank crossed his arms and leaned back heavily into his seat. It creaked under his weight. “Money is tight everywhere, even here, so they can’t really be blamed. We need to put our all into this case, you hear? No matter what, we need to bring this drug and its dealers down.”

All around the room, heads were nodded solemnly.

“The meeting is over,” Hank sighed, gathering up his papers. He was getting too old for this, too weary to lead the department fighting a drug he held a personal grudge against. It was beginning to take a toll on his already-compromised mental health.

Cops filed out of the room one by one. Gavin was the last to leave, about to step out of the room when Hank called for him to stay.

“I need to talk to you. Close the door.”

With his back turned to Hank, Gavin rolled his eyes and gritted his teeth. He shut the door with more force than necessary then spun around, a hostile expression on his face. “What do you want, Hank?”

“Today you were the only cop at this table who had nothing to show for your investigation the past week. The other cops may have had nothing much but there was still _something,_ a name of a suspected dealer, a sighting, a _maybe._ You, on the other hand, you had nothing,” Hank sighed. He stood up, too, a good few inches taller than Gavin as he approached the latter. “I hate having to play the stern superior here, but it’s my job. So, tell me why you’ve got dust.”

“What can I say? I conducted stake-outs at several locations where we previously busted some dealers. Nothing. I got nothing. Five fucking days I went out there in the sweltering heat to find nothing. A whole week wasted. I’m tired, too, you know.” And it was true. Hank could see his bloodshot eyes and dark eyebags clear as day.

“Perhaps you would like a partner on your investigations?” He was sure Gavin was going to refuse anyway.

“I work best alone.”

Yeah, there it was.

“Then prove it to me, Gavin.” Hank nodded at him with a tight-lipped yet understanding smile, clapping Gavin’s shoulder with a heavy hand as he brushed past the detective.

The door shut behind him and Gavin stood alone in the room for several minutes, fists clenched at his sides and a vein protruding from his temple as he forced himself to calm down. He hated being told he was not good enough. Hated being spoken to like he didn’t try, never tried. Over a decade of this bullshit and he was surprised he hadn’t yet snapped. Of course, he’d been a much better cop back in his heyday, when he still cared. Now he was just bored of the job, tired of his colleagues and sick of the case.

But he still needed the money. Still liked the authoritative power he wielded over a good many people.

“Fuck!” He exited the room, stomping straight to his desk to pack up his belongings. Much of the department had already left. Dusk was deepening into proper night outside, and it was a Friday. Everyone probably had some plan or another to destress.

Hank was still at his desk when Gavin left silently.

 

* * *

 

His life was fucking monotone. Everything had become routine, void of any excitement. The worst was the fact that he was only thirty-fucking-six and feeling this way. What did the rest of his years have in store for him? More of the same? Something had to change.

Gavin decided to start tonight, and to start small. Choosing to take the train home instead of his usual taxi, he made his way to the station and bought himself a ticket. He hadn’t used public transportation meant for masses of people at any one time in a while, much preferring the quiet ride home in the autonomous vehicle employed by Detroit Taxi.

As he walked to his platform, he saw all kinds of people waiting wearily for their own trains to come and whisk them away. Several homeless people sat in the shadows and around corners, some begging and others passed out. Gavin tried not look at them.

Somehow it felt as though there were constantly eyes on him, watching him from _somewhere._ He glanced around rather insecurely, sliding a discreet hand into his jacket and around his waist to check and make sure that his issued handgun was concealed and on him. It was an eerie feeling, being watched was. The hairs on his neck started to stand the longer he waited for his train, though it thankfully arrived mere minutes later. Not a damn minute too early. Fucking punctuality.

Gavin neared the edge of the platform and stood off to the side for exiting passengers once the doors opened. While he waited to step over the gap between platform and train, he had made eye contact with several of them. Individual men who stared at him a little longer than necessary as they passed him on their way out. Gavin glared back and shook off their stares once he was inside.

Seats were quickly filling up and Gavin chose a random seat facing the direction in which the train would be travelling. He used to get sick if he was sitting in reverse, back when he used the train to and from the academy. He wondered if it would still be the same now, but he wasn’t about to test it out tonight.

He settled into his seat by the window, crossing his arms and looking out of it so as not to have to make eye contact with the person opposite him. Just as the train was about to pull away, his eyes landed on one of the homeless people half-hidden in the shadows of a grimy corner of the platform. Safely tucked away in the train, Gavin allowed himself to look over the person. He felt nothing but a little pity for them, until they grinned at him, showing off rotting teeth.

His eyes widened and his breath quickened but the train was already pulling away, and in less than a second he had lost sight of the person. His heartbeat was thumping a mile a minute. Clutching his bag closer to himself, he shut his eyes for a moment. Had he imagined that? Or had the person been grinning at someone else and not him?

After a few minutes, he opened his eyes calmly. There was no use in trying to find an answer to that. The person was far away from him by now, and he would be safely at home soon. He would need to change lines in a few stops in order to get on the next train home, so he kept his ears perked for the announcement of the stop for the switch and tried not to nod off at the sight of city lights whizzing past him.

In about half an hour, his stop was finally announced over the train’s intercom. Gavin rubbed at his eyes and stood up as the train slowed to a stop, exiting when the doors opened. He was one of the few who exited the train here. Sourly, he remembered distinctly hating this particular station throughout his teenage years due to its poor lighting and overall cleanliness. Nonetheless, he stepped out of the carriage before its doors shut and began walking towards his next platform. As he was walking, he heard a crunch under his foot and stopped.

He removed his foot from whatever it was and squinted at an object that glinted back at him from the tiles. It looked like a chip or coin of some sort. He crouched down, examining it before gingerly picking it up. Turning it over in his fingers, he moved closer under a streetlight and held it up. There were engravings on both sides of the coin in a language he didn’t understand. There was an identical image on either side of it, too, though it appeared to be an insignia of some sort and not of a politician he knew. Gavin shrugged. This probably was foreign currency that some poor tourist had dropped in a rush. He considered just throwing it away but ended up deciding that he would donate it to the first homeless person he saw on his way home if he saw one. There might be a use for it, who knew? He only knew that he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. It mystified him.

On the next train home, he unlocked his phone and googled the words that he saw printed on the coin and found some odd pages in the same foreign language. Scrolling through the many links, he finally found one in English. It led to a bar in Downtown Detroit, it seemed. Why, Gavin wasn’t sure. He was tired and definitely had sleep on his mind, but as he stepped out of the train at his last stop, he felt inclined to keep the coin and check the bar out.

Could it have been fate that this coin had found him and led him to a mysterious adventure on the night that he decided his life needed some changes to it? Gavin wasn’t one to believe in fate if he were being honest, but what were the odds of this chain of events happening on this particular night? The memory of the homeless man’s smile lingered in his brain, and Gavin hardened his resolve to live out this adventure, at the very least, for the night. He caught a taxi outside the station and instead of going home, input the address the link provided, strapping on his seatbelt and observing the state of Detroit’s streets at night as he was driven through them.

The trip to the bar was smooth and fast. He got out of the vehicle when it halted, barely making out the quiet hum of its engine as it sped away after dropping him off. Before him was the bar, just like he had seen in the single blurry image he had managed to find of it online. There seemed to be next to no information on the place at all beyond what its own page had provided. He was probably asking for trouble showing up at a sketchy location no one else knew he was going to while in his recognizable daily outfit with his badge and gun still strapped to his waist.

But nothing would change the fact that he was here now. He had spent time and money and expended energy to get here, so there would be no backing out of it at this point. He stuck a hand in his pocket and pulled out the coin, looking from it to the circular sign above his head. The same insignia of a snarling wolf with the words _Giuramento di Sangue Blu_ arcing above it were on both the coin and the sign.

“Blue Blood Oath,” Gavin whispered to himself. He had translated it the car and found out that the language was Italian. An odd name for a bar, but intriguing nonetheless. It made the place sound exclusive.

He pocketed the coin again and took a step forward. Before he even reached the doors, they slid readily open for him without a noise as if having expected his presence all along. Gavin hesitated for a brief moment, biting at his lower lip rather nervously. That eerie smile flashed in his mind again, and Gavin took it as a challenge of his courage. Spurred on by newfound bravery, he walked on in.

The hallway he entered was lushly carpeted, its floor covered in the deep blue material from one end to the other. Behind him, the doors had slid closed again, tinted so dark that he couldn’t see what was on the other side of it anymore. The walls of the place were made of walnut with gold embellishments and the wood had been polished to such a smooth finish that Gavin could have run his finger along it as he walked and not gotten a splinter. Ahead of him lay a counter and a heavy wooden door to its right.

A blonde lady seated behind the counter smiled at him as he neared. She was pretty but her bright, white smile was unnerving. Gavin schooled his expression into a slight scowl. He wasn’t about to get too comfortable now.

“Hi, welcome to _Giuramento di Sangue Blu._ How may I help you?” Her voice was eerily cheery and matched her looks. Everything about her made his skin crawl.

Gavin stared at her longer before speaking, noting that on her nametag the word _Chloe_ was printed. “Hi…Chloe. Is this the bar?”

“The bar is right behind this door, sir. However, it is for members and invited guests only. Do you have any proof that you are either one?”

The coin. Gavin rummaged through his pockets and found it, holding it out to her. “Is this proof enough?”

Chloe took the coin from him, looking it over. She didn’t question how he had the coin at all, merely grinning at him before typing down something into the screen on her desk. When she was done, she stood up, gesturing him towards the door.

“Right this way, sir.” From her hand she revealed a key for a lever lock, slipping it into the keyhole and unlocking the door. She pushed open the thick wooden door to reveal a rather large and warmly-lit space peppered with fancy little booths and an elegant rosewood bar curving along the length of one wall. In here the lush blue carpet continued across the floor. Gavin felt extremely out of place in his worn leather jacket, faded jeans and facial scruff.

There were only two other men in here besides the bartender himself. They were all dressed sharply in suits, the two men paying no attention to Gavin as they smoked their cigars and played cards in their booth. The bartender smiled at him and left his bar to escort Gavin.

“By the bar or in a booth, sir?”

“Uh,” Gavin looked to Chloe but she was already gone, the wooden door shut and possibly locked again. He frowned, turning back to the bartender. “In a booth, I suppose.” While many would have paid to sit their asses upon the undoubtedly expensive barstools, Gavin much preferred a seat that could provide maximum comfort to his behind and the plush booth seats looked like they could offer him that.

He was led over to a booth and seated. He supposed that now was the time to order his drink, though he really didn’t want to. The prices of the drinks here must be phenomenal. He hadn’t thought this through, had he? No, he’d pretty much just entered the place in a daze, enchanted by the atmosphere of luxury it emanated. He had barely opened his mouth when the bartender spoke.

“You are entitled to a free drink, sir. Worry not about any payment. I can assure you that it is completely free.”

Oh. Well then. Gavin shrugged. “Do I get to choose?”

“Bartender’s choice. I know _just_ the drink to serve to you,” the bartender gave him another smile before striding away, going back to his bar and browsing through his liquor.

Gavin watched him for a bit before taking out his phone to while away the minutes. He should probably inform someone on his whereabouts. Unfortunately, he got no reception in here. Fuck. He’d better have all the luck in the world tonight. Scrolling through his phone, he found some games that required no connection whatsoever, so he loaded one of them and started playing. Halfway through finishing a level, his drink came.

The bartender set down a coaster before presenting him with his drink. It was a rich blue, much like the carpet. Gavin had never seen a drink like it before. Not that he drank a lot.

“Enjoy your drink, sir. Feedback is always welcome.” Another too-wide smile was given before the bartender’s retreat.

Gavin would see about that. As long as it wasn’t too bitter, he was sure he’d down it just fine. He sipped it, tasting sweetness burst over his tongue as a tinge of bitterness hit the back of his throat. And of course, the warmth as it travelled through him, consuming, calming.

Blue seemed to be a favourite colour here. Chloe at the counter had been wearing a dark blue dress, too, with an attractive cut-out in the back.

As Gavin sipped and sipped, he began to feel a little more loosened up. His mind started wandering a little. Nothing too coherent, just images of past memories showing up before his eyes. His bones started to feel like they were softening, his body growing tender. Everything around him became fuzzier, his senses quickly dulled by the drink.

The last thing he was aware enough of doing was him slurring, “What’s in this drink?” Then he passed out.

 

* * *

 

When Gavin awoke, he found himself blindfolded and handcuffed with his hands behind his back. His knees hurt as he realized he was kneeling on the floor, held up only by a pole that he leaned back against.

“Hello?” he yelled. It was dark behind the cloth around his eyes and extremely quiet. His ears twitched.

“No need to shout,” someone said from behind him.

“Release him,” a calm and cool voice instructed.

He thought that it would mean both the blindfold and handcuffs, but when his vision was freed his wrists remained restrained. Afraid, his eyes shifted all around him. The lighting in here was intentionally poor, a single lamp glowing dimly next to him. The only things he could see beyond the area its weak light covered were several pairs of legs in the shadows.

“Where the fuck am I? Who the fuck are you? Fucking release me, you motherfuckers! I’m a cop!” There were tears in his eyes from fear and in anger that someone would dare drug him and kidnap him. He struggled noisily against his restraints.

The second voice he had heard chuckled. It came from a distance opposite him, hidden in the deep dark. “We know who you are, and if you want to get out of here alive, you’d best stop yelling your identity. We don’t take too kindly to your ah, kind here. Many of us don’t respect you at all.”

A strobe of moonlight moved across the room, passing over Gavin’s head to cross over the desk concealed several metres before him. In the momentary light he saw steepled fingers, long and slender, and the brief hint of a jaw where a smirk had been plastered upon.

“Let me go.” He lowered his hands behind him to feel for his gun but it was gone, and as he became aware of later, so was his jacket and badge.

“Before that, I have a proposition for you, Gavin Reed. Listen and understand.”

“Fuck you.”

Another voice spoke up. “Shall I rough him up a little?”

“Calm down, legbreaker,” the boss, it seemed, chuckled again. “Let’s slowly ease him open, hm?”

“Fuck you,” Gavin spat.

“Here’s my proposition. I will only say it once, and never again. If you don’t listen now, rest assured you will never listen again.”

The voice paused for a moment to let the gravity of the situation sink into Gavin’s thick skull.

“I shall first start out by gracefully informing you that we’ve been watching you for a while now. We see everything that you do, where and when you do it. We are aware that the DPD has a Red Ice department and that it has been making several arrests around the city.”

Gavin remained quiet.

“You’ve been arresting a lot of our men, our small-time dealers. While disposable, they are still of _some_ use and your force meddling with our operations is displeasing me greatly.”

“So?” Gavin’s tone was defiant. He might be shaking in his shoes right now but that didn’t mean that he was going to be a total wuss.

“So, here’s my proposition. A very simple one. Two choices, your pick.” The boss paused again.

“I don’t have all fucking night.”

When the boss spoke once more, Gavin swore that he could practically hear the devilish smile lacing his voice. “First choice – you become a little half-traitor in the DPD by working for us, telling us of the DPD’s plans for the Red Ice investigations. In return, you will receive a rank, reputation and money in our family. Second choice – you refuse and will be used as a bargaining chip for the release of our men.”

Gavin gave a sharp bark of unamused laughter. “Those are pretty shitty choices. I don’t win either way.”

“I’d say the first choice would be the better one, no?”

“I’ll answer you if you answer a question of mine.”

“You have one week to make your choice. But I’ll answer yours now since I’m feeling rather gracious tonight.”

“I want to know who you are.”

“Me? I’m flattered. I’m merely the chairman of the board, Mr. Reed. It’s been pleasant meeting you.”

“That doesn’t fucking answer m–” Gavin faltered when a needle was jabbed into his neck and something freezing was injected into his bloodstream. Immediately he started salivating and his tongue felt as though it had grown two sizes. He couldn’t speak anymore and his consciousness was slowly fading again.

“Remember, you only have one week to consider your options. Once those seven days are over and we have yet to receive an answer,” the boss gave a short laugh that began distorting with Gavin’s descent into unconsciousness, “You’ll be taken for a ride.”

The boss stared at the limp body on the floor, held back from falling onto its face by the handcuffs around the pole.

“Are you very sure about this man?” a woman’s voice asked the boss, warm yet stern.

Someone leaned down and turned up the brightness of the lamp, illuminating the room a little more. This time when the boss smiled, it was visible. “I’m very sure, Amanda.” He beckoned to one of the men in the room with two fingers and he came forward with a cigar and a torch lighter, the end of the cigar already snipped off and ready to be lit.

Settling back into his seat and puffing at his cigar, the boss nodded. Slowly, the men in the room dispersed, two of them hauling Gavin up from the floor and dragging him out.

Amanda watched the boss smoke and pressed her lips firmly together, wrapping her scarf tighter around her shoulders. “I hope you know what you’re doing, 900.”


	2. Bleating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gavin...he.......

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> doop de doop it's been a while bc classes started again and i fell in love with clancy brown, no biggie

Gavin woke up in his own bed with a burning fever. He felt like absolute shit and probably looked like it, too, if he could have even mustered up the strength to get up and look in a mirror. As it was, he could only groan and moan, kicking the sheets off his sweaty, heated body only to pull them back up when he started shivering not a minute later. What day was it even?

He turned his head, feeling the tendons in his neck scream and his brain matter scramble. On his bedside table laid his phone and he slowly reached out to pick it up, almost dropping it onto his face, so shaky and weak his arm was.

Saturday. 12:42PM. No new messages, no missed calls.

It was as if he had never gone missing for the night. Not like he had managed to tell anyone about it. He was surprised that he was even still alive and in his bed. How had he gotten home? Had _they_ brought him home and tucked him into bed?

He groaned again, slapping the back of a hand against his forehead as he dropped his phone onto the sheets beside him. He might not be dead, but he sure felt awful enough to wish that he were.

There were so many things that he needed to check and do. Friday had been no fever dream, he was sure. His wrists still ached despite the lack of bruises circling them. In his mouth remained a sour taste from the alcohol and from him not brushing his teeth the night before. His stomach rumbled achingly.

He would just have to sleep it all off. He was too weak to get up and make food for himself. But he needed to at least drink some water if he wanted to break his fever. Miraculously, a jug of water and a clean glass sat upon his bedside table. He hadn’t noticed them when he had picked up his phone.

Sitting up was no easy task. Gavin struggled to push himself upright and support himself enough to pour out a glass of water. As he sipped it, he wondered if his kidnappers had left it for him. After all, they had been “nice” enough to bring him back home and put him into bed. He scrutinized his room for anything out of the ordinary.

Nothing stood out in particular. His badge, pistol and work clothes were laid out in different positions than he would usually put them in, but other than that nothing was out of its place. Wait, his work clothes? Gavin’s glare dropped to his own front. Upon realizing that he wasn’t wearing his work clothes, he gnashed his teeth together. The bastards had stripped him down and went through his wardrobe for his nightclothes.

What the hell had he gotten himself into? He set the empty glass back down, sighing as he relished in the feeling of his thirst being quenched for the moment. He had no idea what to do now. Where would he go on from here? Logically, his instincts were telling him to inform the DPD of what had happened immediately, but he was fucked if he tried to and it turned out he had been wiretapped by the mafia. Was that what they were? They had to be. They’d been talking about family and drugs and threats, plus they’d drugged him and kidnapped him, too.

“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. He was alone in this. He couldn’t tell anyone about what had happened to him last night until Monday, when he could speak to someone in person. 

Six days remained until he had to give his answer. The answer that would determine his fate.

It was all too much for him to handle in his current state, so he curled up under his covers and went back to sleep. His sleep was riddled with nightmare after nightmare until he eventually woke up on Sunday with his fever finally broken.

 

* * *

 

_Snip. Snip._

“Amanda.”

The lady paused in her tending to the roses and turned. “Connor,” she greeted, giving him a small smile.

He was standing with a hand on his hip under the arch of roses, a handsome young man with a sweet face. “Thought I’d find you out here,” he gave a small chuckle, going over to her and reaching around her to pluck a rose. He held it up to his nose and inhaled, savouring its elegant perfume.

Amanda watched him as he pressed his nail against a thorn. “Where else would I be if not by your brother’s side? It couldn’t have been a hard guess,” she chuckled, something she rarely ever did in the presence of anyone else but Connor.

“Yeah, it really wasn’t.” Connor dropped the rose into the pile of rejected ones on the garden table and walked towards a stone bench where he sat down, patting the seat next to him in invitation as he gave Amanda an expectant gaze. She followed suit and sat down gracefully, adjusting her scarf as she did.

“What is it?”

Connor sighed. “My brother.”

Raising an eyebrow, Amanda asked, “What about him?”

“You’re his _consigliere,_ so I thought I’d ask you about what he’s doing. What _is_ he doing, Amanda?”

“You’ll have to be more specific, Connor.”

“Last night. That cop he had brought in.”

Amanda pursed her lips as she held her head high, crossing her legs. She gazed at the lush bushes of their garden. “So, you found out.”

“Of course. I find out everything eventually, heh.”

“You’d best stop spying into your brother’s affairs, Connor. I don’t want you sticking your head into business that might get you killed. Your brother or not…you know that blood ties don’t matter if your loyalty to the organization is questioned.” Her eyes narrowed at him in warning.

Connor’s voice was light and airy as he laughed. “I doubt he’d ever really hurt me. But he did kind of hurt me when I found out he was hiding this plan from me.”

“Well, he wasn’t. You were going to be involved at a certain point. We just hadn’t told you yet. Now that you’ve gone and found out, however…” Amanda gave him a teasing glare.

“I was going to be involved?” Connor paused. “Then please don’t tell him that I found out. Please.”

Amanda shook her head, amused. “I’ll keep quiet about it this time. No more, Connor. Your luck’s going to run out one day.”

“Are you allowed to tell me about his plan with the cop?”

“No.”

Shushing Connor’s groans of dissatisfaction, Amanda stood up. “You will be informed in due course.” She returned to tending roses without another word, snipping away as Connor left the garden silently to return to the mansion.

Connor was worried, lost in his thoughts as he walked back to the house. 900 dragging a cop into whatever plan he had in mind was a very dangerous move. If he hurt that cop…their family would be done for. He hoped his twin brother knew what he was doing.

 

* * *

 

900 sat eating his dinner alone at the table. A chandelier glittered above him, its crystals twirling and reflecting the light with a dazzling brilliance.

A knock came from behind the large doors and one was pushed open after he called out for the visitor to enter. Amanda stepped in, closing the door behind her. She drew a heavy chair out from under the table where she could sit by him.

“Am I interrupting your dinner?”

“Some company is nice every now and then.” 900 took a sip of his wine. “Have you got something to tell me?”

Amanda sighed, looking down as she twisted her fingers together in her lap before speaking again. “I have a feeling that some of our family is worried about you.”

Putting down his fork and dabbing at the corner of his lips with his napkin, 900 smiled at her. “I suppose you won’t be naming names.”

“There’s no need to. They’re not being disloyal, they’re simply showing concern.”

“About me?”

“About your plan, specifically.”

900 sat back and finally laid his eyes on his _consigliere._ “Ah. My little plan. What about it?”

“That man is an officer. Is it really wise to be involving him like this? If he gets hurt or killed while in our presence…”

“He may bear the title of an officer but his heart is no longer in it. We’ve all been watching him, haven’t we? It is obvious that he is no longer the officer he once was. His performance is suffering. If he cooperates with us, he can build it back up, so long as the DPD do not find out about his involvement with us.” 900 flashed her a cunning smile.

“And how do you know that this will work? You’re going off by guesses.”

The Don picked his fork back up. “This will work. It has already started working. He took the coin, didn’t he? He went to the bar, actually downed his drink,” 900 paused for effect, “He’s unhappy with his life – he thinks it’s dull. All we’re offering is some excitement, spicing his life up a little. It comes with bonuses, too. He will find it hard to resist.” He stabbed at his blue rare steak and sunk his knife into it. Myoglobin oozed out, fascinatingly red.

Both individuals watched as it pooled in the plate.

Quietly, Amanda asked, “Why him?”

900 never answered her. All that anyone needed to know was that he had his sights set on Gavin Reed and refused to budge. And no one, not even his _consigliere,_ would need to know the true reason why until he decided to tell them so.

 

* * *

 

On Monday, Gavin went to work, feeling well enough to drag himself out of bed, clean himself up and drive to the station.

The first thing he did after clocking in and getting his first cup of coffee for the day was seek Hank out. Surprisingly, the lieutenant was already at work. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said that there was much work to be done in cracking the Red Ice case. Well, Gavin had something for him today.

They talked privately in the meeting room where no one could overhear them. Gavin told Hank everything, trusting his memory and pushing on even when he could see Hank’s eyes slowly start to lower in disbelief.

“I’m not lying, Hank.” _Please,_ Gavin’s eyes pleaded.

Hank scratched at his beard, taking in a deep breath. “If you’re serious…then you’re in a lot of danger for giving me this information.”

“But we may still have a chance at taking them out before this week is up! Which is why I’m telling you all of this. God knows why I still have faith in our cops but I do, God damn it, I do.” Gavin’s voice cracked at the end. He was close to tears and Hank could sense it. The older man sighed heavily.

“Okay. I trust you, okay? But we tread carefully, no sudden big movements. Let’s begin by checking that bar of yours out.”

They headed out, driving to the location in Hank’s more discreet old clanker of a car. Hank parked the car a distance away from the entrance to the bar and they walked up to it together, scrutinizing the sign. _Giuramento di Sangue Blu._ This was the place, Gavin confirmed verbally.

The doors slid open welcomingly just like they had for Gavin that night. Today, however, instead of Chloe behind the counter, it was just one man standing by the counter, leaning against it with one arm slung over its top. Gavin had no fucking idea who this guy was but his guts were already telling him that he shouldn’t be friendly with the man.

If Gavin could describe him in a few choice words, they would have been sharp and angular. Pointy, even. From his eyebrows to his eyes, nose, his smile and chin, he was razor sharp edges all the way. Even his dark suit that he wore was sharp and clean-cut. Gavin almost shuddered. The sight of him was a blast of cold air straight into his very soul.

Hank hardly seemed bothered by the aura he gave off, only giving the man before them a brief once-over as he strode over to him. Gavin followed behind, glaring at the pointy man.

“Welcome to _Giuramento di Sangue Blu._ Elijah Kamski,” the man introduced himself, holding out a hand with slender fingers. Hank took it and shook it where Gavin would have slapped it away.

“What can I do for you today, officers?” he asked, clasping his hands politely in front of him, standing in a relaxed yet formal manner.

“I’ll tell you what you can do for us today. You can tell us what the fuck’s going on here,” Gavin interjected before Hank could answer in a more respectable way.

Kamski chuckled.

Hank elbowed Gavin back behind him. “Sorry about that. We’re just checking that this here place you’re running is legal. I heard it was a bar?”

“A bar? No, no it isn’t a bar.”

“Don’t fucking lie to us, it’s a goddamn bar. I was here before.” Gavin waved his finger rudely around as he spoke.

“Agh, Jesus, Gavin, let me fucking handle this.”

But Kamski ignored Hank and focused his eyes on the detective. “I’ve never seen you before, and I work here all the time.”

“Well, you weren’t here that night. It was some blonde chick called Chloe.”

“Never heard of her.” Kamski raised his chin, gazing down his long nose at Gavin.

Gavin gritted his teeth, snarling at the man. “Take him in for questioning, Hank, God damn it, he’s lying through his fucking teeth.”

Hank spun around, grabbing Gavin by the shoulders. Shook him. He was getting pissed off at how Gavin was rushing headfirst into the situation with all of his accusations. He leaned in, voice low and threatening. “You fucking listen here, Reed. You want this to go well, you let me handle it. You’re being too brash. Just…just trust me.”

Gavin wrestled out of his grip and Hank let him go. He turned back to Kamski, leaving Gavin to brood at the wall.

“Again, so sorry about him. If this isn’t a bar then what is it?”

“It’s a gentlemen’s poker club.”

“You got the legal papers to prove that you have a license for all this?”

“Of course, we do. Hold on one moment.” Kamski disappeared behind the counter briefly, the sounds of a safe clicking and hissing open coming from behind it, too, before he came back around the counter with several documents in his hand.

Hank looked them over, flipping through pages. Gavin reappeared by his side, peering over Hank’s arm to see for himself.

“So, can we arrest him?” Gavin asked, looking up at Hank hopefully. He didn’t trust Kamski at all, legal operation or not be fucked.

Passing the papers back to a still-smiling Kamski, Hank sighed. “We can’t. He’s not doing anything wrong. The papers check out. Though…” he addressed Kamski again, “You mind showing us this poker den?”

“It would be no problem at all.” Kamski exposed a key in his palm and went to unlock the thick door. Gavin held his breath as he listened for the click of the levers that signalled the unlocking. The door swung open and Kamski stepped back as Gavin rushed through it.

Hank shambled in after him, coming to a stop by him. They both stared at the place, Hank in grudging admiration at the luxury of it, Gavin in horror at the sight of it.

The booths and bar that he had seen on Friday night were gone. In their places were several poker tables surrounded by rich men playing cards. They looked up at the cop duo briefly but did not care for them, continuing their games.

Gavin was dumbfounded. “This is the place…I swear…this is the bar…with the booths and all…the bartender, the blue drink…” There was none of that here.

Hank nodded, mouth twitching, chagrined. “Yeah, okay.” He turned back to Kamski. “Sorry for wasting your time…Kamski, was it?”

“Don’t worry about it, officer. We run a clean business here and have nothing to hide.”

“No. No,” Gavin’s voice grew louder. He fumbled through his pockets for his phone. “No. I’ll show you, I’ll show the both of you that this place is a fucking bar.” He opened up the page, the same one he had looked at the other night. His blood ran cold as he scrolled down and down, looking for something familiar on a page that was showing him that this place was indeed a poker club. But the link was the exact same one he had clicked on that Friday night because he’d accessed it through his history. So _how?_ No, this couldn’t be. Gavin pushed past Hank and Kamski and walked out, shaking his head with his eyes wide and face pale, the hand holding his phone trembling.

Hank called for him to wait but was ignored. He ran a hand down his face in exasperation then thanked Kamski for his time.

“Why is he so obsessed with this place being a bar?” Kamski asked as he escorted Hank back to the main entrance after locking the door behind him.

“Uhh, hallucinations.” It was the best that Hank could come up with for now. He nodded at Kamski and stepped out, the heat of Detroit rising from the pavement and hitting him again.

“Gavin? Gavin!” The detective was nowhere in sight, until Hank ran down the street and spotted him huddled by the car.

Gavin didn’t answer at all, staring at his phone, shoulders hunched. He looked small and broken, defeated. Hank came to a stop before him and looked down at him. Slowly, Gavin lifted his head to face Hank.

“I’m going to die,” he whispered in a hoarse voice.

 

* * *

 

Hank helped him up and into the car, buckling him in like Gavin was his kid. Gavin was still shaking, his skin cold and clammy to the touch. Hank himself slid into the driver’s seat, shutting the door after him and pausing before turning on the engine. He put his hands on the steering wheel and bit his lip then turned to Gavin.

“You’re probably just exhausted. I’m telling Fowler to give you at least a day’s leave of absence to rest up.”

“I’m not exhausted. It happened, Hank. It fucking happened.” Gavin wasn’t done trying to convince Hank.

“Well, okay then. Give me a name. Do you have a name? A face?”

It was then that Gavin realized he had nothing more to tell Hank. No names had been uttered in the room that night except for his own. His credibility was fucked. He didn’t even have any lingering injuries from the night. “No,” he almost sobbed out.

“Then we can’t do anything more for now, Gavin.” Hank reached out a hand and patted his shoulder comfortingly.

Gavin shut his eyes and chewed at his lower lip all the way back to the station, going to cry silently in the bathroom later. He was going to fucking die, and no one could help him.

 

* * *

 

_Clink._

Kamski nodded at 900, maintaining eye contact as they both swirled their wine then lifted it to their noses before taking a sip.

“Breaking out the expensive wine, huh?” he commented, chuckling as they set their glasses down.

“And they’ll just keep getting more and more expensive from here on out because we’ve got much more coming to celebrate, so rejoice,” 900 replied, reclining back in his seat as he crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. “Tell me it.”

Kamski sat back, too, making himself comfortable before beginning his recollection of the day’s events. He told the story in between sips of wine and chuckles shared with the Don.

“The old cop said it was hallucinations!” Kamski cried, the both of them breaking out into laughter again.

“How unfortunate,” 900 shook his head, laughter bubbling down into a smooth chuckle.

How unfortunate for Gavin indeed.

 

* * *

 

Gavin didn’t reject the leave of absence that he had been granted by Fowler as per Hank’s request. He accepted it silently, and even went home earlier than usual that day.

Perhaps it was for the better. He couldn’t concentrate at work after the visit to the poker club. Kamski’s evil smile kept appearing in his head, the changed webpage flashing before his eyes every time he closed them. He felt beaten down, helpless. He was a man awaiting his death, and the worst part of it all was that he knew when it was coming.

He decided then that if he was going to die he would spend his furlough as he damn well liked it. And that meant stuffing himself full of his favourite foods and snacks in front of the television as he watched B-rated movies. He had resigned himself to his fate. So be it then. It wasn’t like he was contributing anything particularly valuable to society as a cop or as a person, even. He was fucking useless, a waste of space.

Then later past midnight he sat up suddenly in the middle of the show he was watching, right before its climax. A crisp fell out of his mouth. While he had tried to push it out of his mind, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about his fate the entire time, but now he was thinking about his situation in a different way. It was ridiculous and awful that he was even considering this, as a police officer, but the man was desperate and still desired to stay alive. If anyone else was in his situation, they’d probably have considered it, too.

Gavin was aware that he wasn’t the best cop around, seeing as how he was only really still in it for the money and for the ability to wield authoritative power over a good many citizens. The mafia boss had offered all that and more to him if he played as their dirty little spy in the DPD. Though Gavin didn’t feel a real need to be part of the family, he couldn’t deny being interested in the money and power. Yeah, he was a bad cop, a corrupt cop. But he probably wasn’t the only one in the DPD playing this game. He knew about the kickbacks some superiors received from the criminals they caught in exchange for their release or for a filthy contract of some sort. He’d known since he was a young detective but no one had spoken up about it, so he’d shut up, too.

He was done being the better man now. And just like that, Gavin had made up his mind. He would play along with the mafia and still work with the DPD. He’d be a spy for the criminal family and an undercover cop for the DPD. Maybe there was still hope for him.

Three days remained before _they_ would contact him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LONG END NOTE WARNING
> 
> FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK GOD ok so i've been slacking on my chaptered fics bc 1) i've been slowly losing interest in dbh and 2) i've been spending all my free time watching clancy videos, tv shows and movies with other clancyfuckers so like. that's my life now i guess and it's a damn good life if u asked me.
> 
> anywayyyyyy i also just feel like i'm not putting out my best anymore?? so that's contributing to why i haven't been updating my chaptered fics frequently. i had this chapter 2 lying around completed for a good week or two but somehow didn't wanna post it. well it's here now anyway bc i'm tired of reading through it over and over lmao. please don't expect good things from me. this is all i can offer, honestly. 
> 
> back to CLANCY - my inspiration for 900's mannerisms in this fic is 100% clancy brown as brother justin in season 2 of carnivale. if u haven't watched it then please for the love of god and satan, WATCH IT!!!! it's fucking amazing, i'm on my second rewatch. (check it for any triggers before u dive in tho, it's explicit and dark)


	3. Entrapment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin makes his decision.

On Saturday morning, Gavin was dressed and ready. Ready for what, he wasn’t quite sure. He hadn’t eaten yet, too nervous, stomach too sick to keep anything down. He kept checking his phone for something, _anything,_ a sign that they were coming for him, but there was nothing. Was he supposed to text someone something, call them up? He hadn’t been given any further instructions on how they would contact each other.

The hours ticked by and he got a cramp sitting in the same position at his kitchen table, just waiting in silence, going mad. Eventually it was nearly evening, and with his stomach growling violently, Gavin got up to get a drink of water and to prepare his first meal of the day. Maybe it would be his last meal ever, he didn’t know.

The first sip of water he took was invigorating, cold and sweet as it trickled down his gullet. Then he took another, and another, and another. He refilled his glass several times, downing each one quicker than the last until he was puking nothing but diluted stomach acid all over his kitchen floor. He fell to his knees and rolled over to lean his back against his kitchen cabinets, gasping. It took another half an hour for him to calm down enough to stand back up, clean up and cook something to eat.

By the time he was done cooking and was seated at the table to dine, young night had fallen. As he ate his food, tongue numb and leaden as he chewed unenthusiastically, he tried to comfort himself by thinking that maybe they weren’t coming for him after all. Maybe they had just been pranksters out to scare the DPD, out to scare him. Maybe he wasn’t going to die today.

Then the doorbell rang.

 

* * *

 

Gavin’s cutlery clattered to the floor, spattering food onto his newly-cleaned up floor. His hands began shaking, shortness of breath making his vision blur and his head pound.

The doorbell rang again. It sounded more aggressive this time, angrier. _Open this door right now,_ it demanded.

The legs of his chair raked painfully against the floor as he stood up slowly, gathering his balance before cautiously stepping towards the door. He turned the locks carefully, the scrape of metal against metal horrifyingly loud in his ears. His doorknob creaked, and he finally opened the door.

Before him stood a man just a little taller than him, silhouetted against the streetlamps outside.

“Hello, Detective Reed.”

Squaring his shoulders and swallowing thickly, Gavin nodded once. “Who are you?”

“I’m Connor. You know why I’ve come.”

Gavin blinked, his eyes wetting themselves as his heart sunk. So, this was it then.

“Follow me,” Connor beckoned, stepping off Gavin’s porch and towards a dark, inconspicuous vehicle parked by the pavement, right in front of his house. He opened up a door and stood by it, patiently waiting for Gavin to approach.

As if in a trance, Gavin found himself making his way over to Connor and slipping into the lush seats of the car. Fear was eating him up inside, his eyes unfocused as he briefly registered Connor slipping in opposite him.

Connor snapped his fingers, making Gavin jolt.

“You look sick,” the man commented, his slight smile noticeable in the dim interior light of the car that soon faded, the contours of his face later only lit by the light of streetlamps that leaked in through the heavily-tinted windows.

“I’m fine,” Gavin replied hoarsely, voice almost a whisper. “Just tell me what you want.”

Nodding, Connor shrugged. “Your answer. Nothing else. A simple _yes_ or _no_ will suffice.”

Swallowing laboriously again, Gavin took a deep inhale and closed his eyes momentarily. “I don’t think I really have a choice.”

Connor chuckled. “I’m glad you’re aware of that. But I’ll still need to hear a concrete _yes_ or _no_ from your mouth, with your own voice. We’re being listened to right now. Best you answer quick so you can get back to your dinner without any trouble.”

“I say yes. _Yes._ ” Gavin’s fists shook in his lap as he shut his eyes fiercely. “Yes!” he shouted. If they wanted to hear him, they were going to hear him loud and clear and angry. How dare they. _How dare they._

But Connor remained calm, letting Gavin shout. When Gavin was done, Connor took his limp fist and pushed his fingers open, shaking his irresponsive hand.

“That’s all we needed to hear. Thank you. You may return to your dinner.”

Gavin got out of the car and slammed the door, his tears finally breaking past his waterline. He hadn’t taken a single step towards his house when he heard the engine of the vehicle flare up a little before it zoomed off into the night.

He ran up the steps of his porch and through his door, slamming it and locking it before slumping against it, sobbing and punching the wood until his knuckles were skinned and his blood was beaten into the grain.

 

* * *

 

“I say yes. _Yes._ Yes!” came Gavin’s voice loud, clear and angry through the speaker on 900’s desk.

_Click,_ 900 shut it off. “And there we have it. Our bait worked. He’s been hooked.” He spun in his seat to face Amanda, who was sitting before him.

“Now to reel him in. How will you do it?”

“In all sorts of manner. My personal experiment. I’ll begin testing him next weekend.”

“I would have thought that you’d want this done fast, have it be over and move on.”

900 shook his head. “Oh no, no, my dear Amanda. Slow and steady wins the race. We must pace ourselves.”

Amanda watched his face, unable to decipher his expression. She had known him since he was a little boy, yet she wasn’t sure if she could confidently say she knew him at all. “You’re going to break him.”

“Don’t let him fool you, Amanda. It will take a lot more to break him. I don’t know if I even can.”

“But are you going to try?”

900 just smiled. “I’ll observe and act accordingly.”

 

* * *

 

Sunday passed in a blur and Monday came too soon. Gavin arrived at work early, grabbing a coffee before seating himself at his desk and sorting through his assigned files on his desktop diligently. He lost himself in it, until Hank shook him firmly with a warm hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t normally care to bother you like this, but… are you okay?”

Gavin blinked, looking at Hank as if he had two heads. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… you doing your work like this for hours on end without a break, not even for lunch… it’s not you.”

“I’m not hungry,” Gavin shrugged Hank’s hand off his shoulder. His stomach grumbled painfully just as the words left his mouth. Hank heard it and raised an eyebrow at him.

“My treat.”

Gavin ended up following Hank to the Chicken Feed.

“Free meals, of course. _My treat,_ ” Gavin scoffed as he unwrapped his burger under an umbrella stand.

Hank dismissed his jibe. “Hey, a man can’t just refuse a free meal now, can he? Now fucking eat up and shut up, you look gaunt.”

The burger was hot and soothing on Gavin’s tongue, the food truck’s “C” sanitation grade slowly disappearing from his mind. It was a pretty damn good burger, not that Gavin would ever tell Hank that.

“You been sick over the weekend?” Hank inquired between bites of his burger.

“Not like you to make conversation with the likes of me. Or to treat me for lunch,” Gavin grinned, taking a sip of his carbonated drink, “But to answer your question, no.”

Hank’s downturned eyes slid towards Gavin’s bandaged knuckles. “What’s all that about, then?”

“Anger issues,” Gavin replied before taking an aggressive bite out of his burger.

Their conversation dwindled after that, Hank not knowing how to go on from there and Gavin not feeling much like talking more about himself. They returned to the station where Gavin got right back into his work until Hank shook him out of it at nightfall, telling him to go home already.

That night as Gavin laid in bed, he picked up his phone. _Thank you,_ he typed out a message. He set the recipient to a Hank Anderson. But he never pressed “Send”. He shut his phone off instead and turned over to sleep.

 

* * *

 

His week passed without any contact from his kidnappers or any development on their Red Ice case.

Everyone was at their wit’s end with nothing but theories and a bunch of Red Ice users who had been caught dealing locked up in their cells for questioning. They couldn’t even answer the questions properly, their minds too damaged by the drug to respond to anything coherently.

It had been several months since they started on this case but they still had little luck in making any connections that led somewhere. Whoever was the main supplier of the drugs was efficient and hid well.

Of course, Gavin knew who it was. But he didn’t know him well enough to say anything. He was lost. He had no idea what he was supposed to do for the mafia and for the DPD.

On the following Saturday, his instructions came.

This time, he was picked up at noon. The same vehicle, or at least it looked like it. Connor again, walking right up to Gavin’s front door fearlessly, like he had every right to be ringing the doorbell. He looked just like any other visitor, except Gavin didn’t get very many. His doorbell sounded like the tolling bell of death, Connor’s face greeting him like the grim reaper’s himself.

They got into the car, assuming the same position as they had the first time.

Gavin could see Connor’s face clearly now, in the light of day. His face was smooth, sprinkled with moles. He looked deceivingly friendly, his voice deceptively light and kind.

“Hand over your cell phone, keys and wallet, please. Your gun, too, if you brought it,” that velvety voice instructed. As if in a trance again, Gavin did as Connor asked, handing over what was requested. Connor took them and patted him down after, making sure that there wasn’t anything else on Gavin.

“I’m not taking anything, so don’t worry about the couple of dollars you’ve got in here,” Connor smiled, holding up Gavin’s worn wallet. “It’s just safekeeping. You’ll get everything back on your return.” He then held out a blindfold towards Gavin. “Put this on. And don’t bother taking it off until I instruct you to.” He crossed his legs as Gavin took it from him.

As Gavin fumbled with the strap of the blindfold, he heard the cocking of his own gun and saw its barrel casually trained on him from Connor’s lap. His eyes met Connor’s.

“For my security,” Connor plainly offered, gesturing to Gavin to put on the blindfold.

Gavin pulled it on tightly over his eyes, hearing his own breathing and Connor’s as the engine picked up and he felt them begin moving. How funny it would be to die by his own gun on this fine day.

He’d been nervous the entire week about this weekend, knowing that something was going to happen but not knowing exactly _what._ However, in this very moment, blindfolded and with his own gun aimed at him, he was as calm as an animal unknowingly heading towards its slaughter. But he knew. Oh, how he knew.

 

* * *

 

He had no idea of where they were going. The entire car ride was quiet, Connor simply watching him from across the space between them. When the vehicle finally rolled to a stop, Gavin heard a window roll down and Connor’s clothes rustling as he presumably nodded at security of some sort.

The window rolled back up, and the vehicle started moving again for a bit until it arrived at its final destination.

Connor threw open a door and guided Gavin out of the vehicle by the arm after him. They walked across some gravel and up some steps, going straight indoors. The doors had already been opened and ready to receive them the moment they had passed security.

When the doors shut, Connor slipped the blindfold off Gavin’s head and uncocked his gun, passing it to a man off to their right.

Gavin opened his eyes to a luxurious interior. This was the lair of the wolf, and he, little red riding hood, had walked right into it.

Rich navy blue carpeted the entirety of the floor, as far as his eyes could see.

Connor let him gawk for a bit. “This way, if you’re done,” he said, holding out a hand up towards the winding stairs.

This was a grand house, full of history and personality. Its atmosphere passed judgement on Gavin as he followed Connor up the stairs and down a hallway. Connor stopped him at one of many doors and rapped on it with his knuckles.

“Enter,” a chillingly familiar voice announced from within.

The door was opened for them, and before them, behind a sleek wooden desk sat a man Gavin knew as Elijah Kamski, smiling his reptilian smile at them.

 

* * *

 

“Hello, detective.”

“I fucking knew it,” Gavin snarled.

Kamski laughed. “Not too shabby a detective you are, after all.”

The door shut behind them, Connor going to perch himself on the edge of Kamski’s desk. The two men watched as Gavin stood before them, unsure of himself.

“What now?”

“Come and have a seat first. Would you like a drink?” Kamski offered.

Gavin took the seat but rejected the offer of a drink. He wasn’t going to fall for another laced drink, not in this place, not with these people.

“So, let’s get right into it.”

Gavin wished he could shut out Kamski’s nasally voice as he began explaining what Gavin was expected to do, no, _had_ to do to ensure he was useful enough to be kept around. He really wished he could, but his instinct for survival kicked in and absorbed every word that flowed from Kamski’s thin lips and slipped into his brain.

“Do you understand?” Kamski finally asked.

Wordlessly, Gavin nodded.

“Then our business here is done for now. We’ll see you again next week to keep track of your progress. We maintain minimal contact through the week and catch up on the weekends. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all,” Kamski smirked.

Gavin looked him in the eye. “You’re not the boss,” he stated, not quite questioningly.

“I’m not. I’m what you could call, ah, the underboss. You’ll have to prove yourself before you can meet _him._ ”

“Well then, send him my regards. I much look forward to meeting the son of a bitch,” Gavin replied sarcastically, getting up and ignoring Kamski’s outheld hand.

Kamski merely smiled tightly at him in reply. Connor, amused by their interaction, stifled a chuckle and pushed himself off Kamski’s desk to open the door for Gavin, leading him out and back down the stairs.

Connor held out the blindfold again. “Get used to it. This is going to be routine from now on.”

With a sense of direction now, Gavin allowed himself to think about other things as he was escorted home, such as how long the trip to wherever that was had taken earlier. Based on their return trip, he’d say the drive took at least an hour. The vehicle pulled up on his familiar street as Connor allowed him to take the blindfold off and return it.

When they came to a full stop, Connor returned all of Gavin’s belongings, allowing him to check them to see that everything was as it was before he had handed them over what had felt like a lifetime ago. Gavin was a different man now. A detective for and a traitor to the DPD. This was who he had become.

He got out of the vehicle in a trance again, walking straight to his front door and unlocking it. When he entered and turned to close the door, the vehicle was already gone and the sun was setting.

 

* * *

 

Connor sawed at his food with his knife, picking up morsels with his fork to put into his mouth, jaws working as he chewed them up.

He glanced across the table towards where his younger twin brother sat, silently eating his own food. It was always steak with him, and it always had to be prepared blue. He wouldn’t have his steak any other way. 900 was a carnivore through and through, though an occasional omnivore when Amanda nagged at him to eat something else with his meat.

His brother’s canines had always been unusually sharp, useful for tearing apart meat. Connor watched as 900’s lips, so similar to his own, slid back, exposing teeth and gums as he opened his mouth to deposit a cube of his dripping steak just behind his incisors. His canines glinted, and then were hidden again when 900’s lips sealed and he began chewing.

Connor took another bite of his food and continued examining 900’s face. They looked exactly alike, except for their hair and eye colours. His eyes slid up 900’s lips to his identical nose, then his eyes. Icy greys stared back into Connor’s own warm browns.

“What are you so curious about tonight, brother?”

“Just looking,” Connor chuckled, sipping his wine. “It still amazes me to this day how similar yet different we look.”

“I’m sure we’re absolutely fascinating specimens to everyone we meet.” 900 returned his attention to his steak.

“When do you plan to meet the detective then? He seemed interested enough in meeting you,” Connor supplied.

900 halted his knife. “Whenever I decide to, I suppose.”

“I have to ask, why him?”

“Because… he interests me.”

“We certainly don’t think alike then because I can’t see why he does. He’s brash and a total opposite of you.”

“I’m experimenting. Innovating, if you will. I have plans to expand our empire and he plays a role in them.”

With a hint of bitterness, Connor replied, “This is why grandfather always preferred you, I guess.”

900 laughed it off. “Come now, brother. We will always be by each other’s sides, you know that. Finish your dinner and let us have a drink together.”

 

* * *

 

Gavin received a letter on Monday morning. It had been slipped right under his door rather than into his mailbox outside.

Suspiciously, he picked it up and felt it, shaking it slightly. It didn’t seem like a bomb or anything, so he grabbed a letter opener from the drawers by the door and sliced the envelope open. Nestled crisply in it was a single piece of paper, folded perfectly into thirds. On it was written several lines of an address and nothing else. It wasn’t even signed. This was a tip-off.

He brought that information straight to the table in the DPD’s meeting room, and the department on the Red Ice case quickly prepared to head there.

Gavin rode to the location in Hank’s car. When they arrived and busted down the door of the small warehouse, they found exactly what Gavin had expected. Before the clock even struck noon, they had made several arrests and confiscated hundreds of Red Ice packets. While a small discovery, it was the first new one they’d had in a long time. This was progress. Yet Gavin couldn’t feel good about it.

On the drive back to the DPD, Hank glanced at Gavin. “How did you know?”

“Anonymous tip,” Gavin simply (rep)lied.

Once back at the station, Gavin met up with Tina and pressed the letter he had brought along to work with him into her hands.

“Send this off to the lab to get it tested for fingerprints.” He had put it in a Ziploc bag to avoid further contamination to the letter. He wanted the lab to find something. He needed them to.

“What’s it for?” Tina asked. She wasn’t on the Red Ice case. Gavin decided she didn’t have to know.

“Just some evidence for a case.”

The lab got back to Tina the next day and she returned the sealed letter to Gavin. “The lab didn’t find any fingerprints but your own.”

Of course.

 

* * *

 

“He did exactly as told,” Amanda observed, rather surprised.

“Of course he would. He’s trained to follow instructions and though he may sometimes try to ignore them, he will always know when he shouldn’t.” 900 tapped a pen against the polished finish of his desk. “A pack of wolves leading a domesticated dog astray,” he mused, steely eyes scanning the tablet’s screen before him again. The DPD had made the news yesterday.

**_Several Thousand Dollars’ Worth of Red Ice Confiscated at Warehouse_ **

_… a win for the Detroit City Police Department._

_… Detective Gavin Reed received an anonymous tip …_

900 put the tablet to sleep.

“What will he do for us in return?” Amanda asked, taking the tablet from 900 and putting it away for him.

“He will tell us of the DPD’s next move.”

“And you will trust his information?”

“I want to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hullo.....it's been a long time wow. but i'm back for now :]

**Author's Note:**

> Title may change, I can't really think of anything right now and to name it The Wolf would be slap-worthy bc i've already taken so much inspo from the song. if anyone has any cool suggestions feel free to leave them in the comments!


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